Something To Eat

“The city is breaking up the encampment, clearing us out,” Olivia said. “I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” asked Simone.

“Jail.”

“Jail? Why?”

“In jail I’ll eat every day, have a place to sleep, shower and go to the toilet.”

Simone shivered and pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders. “Jail is awful.”

“Being old and homeless is worse.”

“How will you get sent to jail?”

Olivia opened her coat, exposing the pistol tucked in her waistband. “I’m robbing the first bank I see.”

Simone watched Olivia walk away and tried to ignore the hunger growling deep in her belly.

From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop

Robert, a US Army veteran and former Biology teacher, lives in Tucson, Arizona. His short fiction has appeared in numerous online and print journals.

Fifteen Minutes

After a lifetime of deception, a sense of purposelessness persisted. Trapped in darkness, Sarah faced tests, time lost all meaning, hunger gnawed, and survival was vital. Guilt spiraled into self-blame. A presence loomed, with fear gripping her. A hidden cave, a reward, reality slipping, and power and control are beckoning. Uncertainty and choices lead to dark paths. Sarah complied, fearing the unknown. Urgency and the cave's depths awaited. A dangerous allure, dread mounting. Unease, an invisible stalker, the crunch of footsteps. The weight of a gaze, fear, and defiance entwined.

"I'm not here to make friends, I'm here to win!"

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Cryoromance

"I'm still burning for Aliona!" Evan cried. "Not for long," said the Lords before they locked two lovers together inside the intergalactic cryo chamber.

Punishment for love between people, in the world overpopulated with hungry people, was inescapable. Stuck in the moment of desire and hunger they were banished far from Earth, only to wander through the darkness of time and space, without enough food, to the unknown destination.

Out there, Evan was just a piece of frozen meat. Aliona was like a mantis in human form.

The last we heard, Evan was eaten alive during his deep hibernation sleep.

From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic

Ivan is a Serbian short story writer, poet and composer of ambient music.

Queue For Killing Time

Mow lawn with toenail clipper; count sand. Invite spiders to tea party; pretend you’re the Mad Hatter.

Adopt imaginary twins; cry when they say their first word (“quarantine”); ransack new recipes to quiet their insatiable hunger; crank open doors and windows; demonstrate how to run fingers over wild, overgrown grass; bike them to beach; build castles, mermaids, moats; inhale salty ocean air; watch fire-red sun sink into horizon.

Lift face to pale moon and marvel, “Isn’t it crazy that there are more stars in the sky than all the grains of sand on earth?”

Time killed, savor moment without end.From Guest Contributor Michelle Wilson

Michelle’s words have appeared in 50-Word Stories, 101 Words, Literally Stories, The Miami Herald, and elsewhere. She lives in Miami Beach, Florida.

Consequences

My fate had been decided and I’m not sorry. The hunger in the pit of my stomach was more important than the consequences. When I barreled my fist into the man’s face and he fell to the ground motionless, I took the bread with my sore, bloody knuckles and ran. Within a day, the sheriff apprehended me.

I’m trapped in a cold, dank, cage, with crawling rats as my friends. I’ve heard other prisoners declaring innocence and then silence.

The sheriff led me outside to a chanting crowd, hands tied tightly behind me, to the noose that awaits my neck.

From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher

Abandoned Doctrines

It had been deserted for far too long. All it took was a little black and white and the first brave soul came venturing in. That was the spark required. Many from far and wide, of different colours, proportions and voices came flying in. The place now housed so many flying entities. Remember when it once only contained the shackled soul of a socially dictated purpose her father had nurtured with care and her mother with ignorance. They say knowledge spreads like wildfire, the unabating hunger that can infect one and all, forcing people to abandon homes, doctrines and conventions.

From Guest Contributor Ronit Mukherji

Survivors

They live presently. Now they tear the soft meat from the bone, now they hear the twang of resistant tendons. The vibration of it. A chorus of crows. Scudding wings of moths that search for the darkness just beyond. In the pit is hunger. We exist, hands pasted to rifle stocks, glimmering gunmetal eyes, rattle-boned. They know family born of teeth, defined by the low moans of their communes. Their tongues hang together. Our hands hang separately, our nails scratching our own stomachs, our thighs, our faces. But we are all hungry. We will all ooze the same black ichor.From Guest Contributor Carrie Cook

Carrie received her MA in Creative Writing from Kansas State University and is currently living in Colorado. Her work has appeared in The Columbia Review, Midwestern Gothic, Menacing Hedge, and Bartleby Snopes.

She Liked Avocados

It wasn't the flying that alerted her. That seemed natural.

It was the complete lack of context that confirmed to Shirlene none of this was real.

There was very little this version of herself knew with any certainty. She remembered her name. She liked avocados. And she was positive that every memory she possessed was a figment of her imagination.

As Shirlene soared above the city of clouds and unfamiliar landscapes, she reflected on her other dreams and other lives. None seemed as real as this moment right now.

The only reality that mattered was her hunger for more avocados.

The Unexpected Drive Home

The rain pelted against the windshield and traffic was at a standstill. Impatient drivers honked their horns to no avail and I tuned them out with my radio. Finally, the traffic began to move, but the rain didn’t let up. Every car was crawling. My stomach gurgled from hunger and my throat was parched. It had been two hours.

As I reached the drawbridge crossing there was an ambulance. Two cars collided head-on and a body laid on the ground covered with a black tarpaulin.

I shut off the radio and drove the rest of the ride home in silence.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Heather

Life on the desert island has not always been idyllic. There's the sunburn and the crab bites and the constant hunger.

Of course, then there's Heather. She had always seemed like the most beautiful woman in the world and now, for all intents and purposes, she's the only woman in the world. He counts himself lucky to be stranded with her all alone.

Sure, even after six months, Heather still refuses his advances, but when she realizes that he will be the last living man she ever sees, she'll surely come around.

It was definitely worth faking the plane crash.